CODE NAME: The Ghost

By Larry Lewis

I have written the first in a collection of short stories about the adventures of a group of people out to protect others against the evil criminal empire of Spectra. The main character is BJ. He is introduced slowly. Qerry also has been trained by the same agency that trained BJ. A detective and his captain joins BJ to fight against the crime lord Mr. G. Jen Jacobs is a computer whiz who becomes BJ's love interest. Then there is Mildred, BJ's mom. She is a mulatto woman who loves her son deeply and is an ex-government employee. She invents satellite systems and advance weaponry. Together this group begins an interesting twist and turn to wreak havoc on Spectra. Not the criminal organizations, the world governments, or his friends will ever know the alter ego. The mystery of the ghost continues throughout all the books.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781683485551

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CODE NAME: The Ghost

Larry Lewis

Copyright © 2018 Larry Lewis

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-68348-554-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68348-555-1 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to my father Eddie W. Lewis. Thank you for always believing in me. You and mom always encourage us. I wish she was alive to read this. I think she would enjoy the book very much. I hope this is a first in a series of 20 books. Again, dad thank you for all you have done.

T he weapons have been destroyed , reported the American to the committee.

How is this possible? asked the Iranian.

It appears that someone was able to penetrate our security and used some type of heat bomb. The weapons and technical information were incinerated. Our people don’t know how it happen. There is nothing on video or audio to ID the assholes who did this, G, the American, grunted."

The Chinaman stood up and walked around the room and stared out the window. This spell like the CIA or maybe MI6 or his government he thought to himself. In any event they would have to accelerate their timetable.

Spectra has spent a lot of money and manpower to stop now. We must execute plan 99. Wouldn’t you all agree?" he asked. Everyone knew he was right.

I think we need to slow down and find out who is attacking us, the woman from Japan stated with concern.

Our chemicals are destroyed, our drug division has been seriously hampered, Mr. G is missing, valuable assets has been killed. It seems to me that someone or some group has a personal vendetta against us.

Who in the hell have we pissed off to the point where they are not concerned about our retaliation, she shouted very loudly with passion and anger. Although she was short in stature, she was big on confidence and intellect. She had seen enough revenge in her life to know when something is suspicious about how everything went down.

It would be the way I would have done this if I was seeking to bring down or take over an organization. She saw in their eyes that they were starting to wonder the same thing.

How did they know what areas of Spectra to attack? And who told them? asked the Russian. An ex-KGB superior who was known for his brutality and cunning.

I think our Asian partner has a good point. How would they do this without inside technical info? I think we need to gather intelligence before we execute 99, the Austrian retorted.

We need to find the son of a bitch and make examples of them, he stated.

The Chinaman turned from the window and nodded in agreement. But we cannot stop pursuing our dream of world domination. We can reopen our research facility in my country. We can use one of the manufacturing concerns as a front.

We can also resume the drug production in three other locations in America, added the American.

What cities are you considering? the Chinaman asked.

I thought of LA, Chicago, and Atlanta. Our people in those cities are loyal and have proven their worth more than once.

The African stood up. He was an ex-dictator of four countries in Africa. We need to find Mr. G. I believe he may be able to shed some light on our predicament.

That may be true, but this matter has to be handled delicately and quietly, stated the American.

The CIA is looking for him. So is Interpol and MI6, stated the Englishman.

I have an idea, but I know some in this room may not feel comfortable about it, interjected the woman from Japan. She hesitated before she said the name Scorpian. The room became silent, and looks of concern came over many in the room.

Let’s discuss this first, shouted the Chinaman.

Hitchhiking alone on I95 from New York State was not as bad as he thought it would be. He was ninety-five miles from Spring Hill, Florida. It had taken him only two weeks. Jogging four hours a day helped.

Thank you for the implants, Spectra, he stated out loud. He knew no one can ever know and that he needed to learn how to blend in. He had a new face and ID. Getting through the airport security was easier than he imagined. Luckily, his American accent had improved over the years. With $500,000 in his home he bought five years ago in a deed restricted area was the best thing he ever did. The assassin vowed he was finished with his old life. All the killing for people who tried to betray him. After all the long years of loyalty, they tried to set him up. He was told he was the property of Spectra and that they could do what they wanted. But he showed them by killing five of their top members to send a message. He had the tracker removed from his neck. They should not find me, he thought, but he knew Spectra would not give up. The only thing he had going for him was that he was very dangerous and had a highly-respected skill set. All he wanted was a life of peace and quiet with a woman who was looking for the same thing. Yes, the SCORPIAN is no more and never will be again. He was hungry now and was pleased to know there was a restaurant one mile away at the next exit, so said the sign. He decided he would buy a steak and potatoes today. He deserved a filling meal. Every now and then he liked to get off his strict diet of healthy eating. As a van drove, he realized he hadn’t seen a VW van in years.

Look here, I don’t care who he is. When the disk is recovered, we have to kill him. He is a man that we cannot control, and that makes him dangerous. The man who just smoked a Cuban cigar had a annoyed look on his face. Mr. G’s eyes stared with a harshness cold look.

5 days earlier

BJ was disturbed by the events that took place last night. He just didn’t understand how a mistake like this could happen. Here he is one of the top agents in the world, and he is behind bars for doing his damn job. Shit, he thought out loud. This has to be a setup.

But who and why? Those are the two questions he must get answers for. But first thing is first. He must get out on the streets.

Galand was walking down the dark alley when a bus pulled up. Three figures jumped from the vehicle wearing dark overalls. Galand observed a flashlight in each of their right hand. One of them had a deep ruffled voice. He was shouting, Anyone need food, clothing or shelter for the rest of your life? Everything is free, you pay nothing. You owe nothing. Galand had heard about these people from other street bums. The word was if you go with them, you don’t come back. Some of his friends were never heard from again. It was strange and at the same time enticing. Anything was better than the life in an alley on Avenue A.

We need to get both of these operations online in six weeks. There is no time to bullshit and waste our time and money. The woman knew she would be taken seriously and that every person in the room understood the dangerous power that she represented. Each of them feared her and knew that the fear was justified and smart. If you wanted to live a little longer on this earth.

The phones’ ringing sounds were getting on his nerves. He knew he must answer each one carefully and with professionalism. But he was tired and not feeling very well. The cold was sapping his strength and was making him irritable and edgy. All he had to do was hold out for one more hour. When the shift change began, he would be on his way home to a warm bed and a bottle of medicine sent by his mom. Yes, today the job of desk jockey sucked, and it seemed to be getting worst as the day wore on.

Hey, Serge, we got another crackhead here. We need ’em booked as soon as ya can.

Jones, what the hell you think this is, a tropical resort for crackheads?

Officer Jones laughed and said out loud, Hell, yeah, Serge, book me a reservation for one. I think he’ll be staying for a while. Jones was dragging the guy by the collar. The man was bleeding lightly from the nose and appeared to have a limp in his walk. Still he struggled to get free. He wanted one more hit of crack, and it didn’t matter how much he got beaten or told to calm down.

Qerry had been hiding inside the Dumpster all night and was tired of the stench. He needed a place to hide out. It wasn’t very safe at night for a fourteen-year-old boy, and besides, he didn’t want to be picked by the cops. Some of the kids seemed to never make it back on to the streets. Qerry had heard that many of the children were placed at the Quno Orphanage. He had heard some awful stories about the treatment of boys there. He promised himself he would never return there. Although his experience was brief, he knew by the way his friend Johnny was behaving that Quno wasn’t the place for him. Johnny was an active and outgoing kind of teenager who wasn’t afraid of nothing, but Quno seemed to change him. It was as if something was controlling his friend’s mind and body. Qerry knew something was up. So with the help of a stranger being chased by the police, he was able to leave undetected during the commotion. All he did was walk past everybody while they were busy noticing the events that were taking place. Fortunately, the people at Quno and in the street were nosy busybodies. He did, however, feel badly for telling the police where the man was hiding. Ironically, it was the same place he decided to make his place of rest. Qerry hoped that the man was all right. He’d never seen anyone move so quickly and quietly before. It was as if the man knew every move the police was going to make. But it came down to his butt or the man’s. Qerry chose the latter.

So now he needed to figure out his next move. As he lay back and tried to get comfortable, he laid his black leather book bag on top of the cans and broken glass. Qerry began the deep-breathing exercises and the fantasy of his make-believe father.

Qerry’s mind floated to an exotic island with white sandy beaches and aqua-blue water so clear he could see all the way to the bottom. The ocean breeze would blow across his tan skin as his hazel eyes squinted from the brightness of the sun. Qerry could see a tall black man waving to him from the beach house they built together. His fantasy father was very special, because this one man was always there for him when he was lonely and scared.

Today they will go fishing, decided Qerry. As Qerry folded his hurt, scarred arms over his empty belly, his mind began to relax and his breathing was deeper. The more he focused, the less the foul stench bothered him. The smell was a combination of old vomit, rotten meat, and various other food and alcoholic beverages. Qerry was a boy that was abandon by both his parents when he was four years old. The couple dropped him off at the babysitter’s and never came back for him. At least that was what he was told. He knew something was weird when he noticed the suitcases in the backseat that night. When he tried to ask about his father, he was always told, All things will work out.

Qerry often wondered if his parents worked things out for themselves. He had gotten over his anger of them and realized that he could survive anything. The streets had good teachers for a kid that kept his mouth closed. The special training he received from Mr. Johnson’s friends proved to be helpful more than once. Although this is one time he wished he didn’t know how to do what he had done. He realized for the first time that he was living a dangerous life and was doing dangerous things. He was scared and alone. Usually he could handle this feeling, but the information he had was enough to make anybody fear for their life. He was a young man that knew a lot about the streets and that it had rules that needed to be followed. Qerry had learned very fast that no one likes a rat. And everyone respects secrets. Qerry was a boy who knew a lot of people and a lot of things about them. But the hoodlums, pimps, prostitutes, and drug dealers heard he was an orphan and discovered he was a boy of honor. He could be trusted. And that trust is what has kept him alive thus far.

But last night was too close of a call. Considering he also witnessed two murders by the most feared man in the state. Qerry knew that Mr. G trusted no one, along with the fact he didn’t like it when someone steals from him. The man would have every greedy bastard on the streets looking for the boy. Mr. G was a man that tolerated little and expected a lot. Qerry heard one time that Mr. G controlled the Mayor, Governor and two Senators, and no crime can be committed without his permission and kickbacks. As Qerry drifted further into his fantasy, he knew that the Dumpster would be his home for the next couple of